A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! And many thanks for the good wishes for my finals (which I passed!)
Guest: Thanks so much! Hope I don't disappoint!
Smithy: Glad you're mostly recovered. As an epileptic too, I feel for you
2: The Trepidation of Making Differentials
Although Eponine has seen many older colleagues and mentors prepare and successfully pass the specialty board finals for trauma surgery, she still cannot quite ignore the unease welling up in her gut on the morning of her own examination. 'It is only one test. You've had years to prepare for this,' she reminds herself as she finalizes her case notes for the oral presentation. If she is to look at this situation from a broader viewpoint, then every surgery she's done has been a test even more important than this upcoming examination. 'The operating room doesn't run by paper and pen after all.'
She takes a deep breath as she hears Combeferre being called in for his own examination before the panel. Even from where she is seated she can practically feel the nervousness that courses through her colleague's fingers as he tries to keep his hands in his pockets. 'At least he hasn't been queasy all week,' she thinks. It's not the first time that she's had such a reaction to such stress; she's long learned to offset the acid churning or having her monthly periods thrown a few days off schedule.
She only has time to review her notes once more before she hears someone call her name. "Doctor Thenardier-Enjolras!" An usher standing near the door of the examination room nods to her. "We're ready for you, Ma'am."
"It's mutual," Eponine quips dryly as she picks up her examination booklet and follows the usher into the next room. This place is bare save for a long table where three of the country's best known trauma experts are conferring over another examinee's work. Nevertheless she clears her throat as she stands before the table. "Good morning Doctor Beaufort, Doctor Chu, Doctor Goodman," she greets, making a slight but polite nod.
Doctor Beaufort, the oldest surgeon on this panel, nods warmly. "First off, congratulations on your recent marriage," he says, shaking her hand firmly. "Are you ready to discuss your case?"
Eponine nods despite the odd feeling of something twisting in her stomach. "Yes Doctors. My patient is known as IVA, a 22 year old male presenting after a motor vehicular accident. Mechanism of injury: motorcycle versus station wagon. Time and date of injury: one-thirty in the morning, on May 1, 2015. Place of injury..." she begins even as she fights the urge to swallow hard and combat the rising feeling of being sick. "Place of injury is at the 34th Avenue Sea Wall."
Doctor Chu sets down his pen. "Are you indisposed, Doctor Enjolras?"
"I'm fine," Eponine replies quickly. She grips her examination booklet tightly if only to distract herself from the lingering nausea as she continues to discuss her case from its history all the way to her intended surgical plans. All the while she can feel the cold sweat gathering in her hair, and there are a few moments wherein she's pretty sure she's going green in the face while she is being questioned about some details concerning the case.
When at last the panellists begin to confer among themselves, the seconds suddenly seem interminable as she waits for them to finish their discussion. "Do you have anything more to add?" Doctor Goodman asks Eponine.
"No, thank you very much," Eponine says tersely, doing all she can not to grimace at the sourness she can taste at the back of her throat.
Doctor Goodman nods. "Then you may wait for our deliberation. Thank you Doctor Enjolras.
"Thank you," Eponine says quickly before walking briskly out of the room. She has to take short breaths as she rushes to the restroom and into the nearest stall, getting there only a second before she has to retch. She is shaking and nearly on her knees as she grips the toilet bowl once she's through letting up what had been her breakfast. Normally it never gets this bad.
"Eponine? The others said you were in here," Combeferre calls concernedly over his loudly knocking on the door. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, give me a moment!" Eponine shouts as she flushes the toilet. She goes to the sink to rinse out her mouth, all the while surveying herself in the mirror. 'It can't be food poisoning,' she realizes. After all the coffee, cereal and milk had been just fine at breakfast. She puts a hand to her neck to check if she is febrile, but there is no unusual warmth there. For once she is startled that she does not feel the pounding in her temples that heralds the onset of a migraine. After one last check in the mirror she takes a deep breath and quits the washroom.
Combeferre is waiting nearby, holding out a bottle of water. "Do you need anything? I can give you a ride back to your home or to Saint-Michel," he offers.
She shakes her head as she grabs the drink. "I'm fine now, but thanks anyway. I just have to run a few errands, so I can manage on my own," she replies. "I'll even be at the barbecue at the Fauchelevents' place tonight, don't worry."
He looks at her doubtfully. "You weren't nervous back there, were you?"
"I do not get the nerves," Eponine retorts as she finds a seat. That aside, there is one possibility that she cannot simply dismiss, and it will take more than her powers of deduction to confirm. 'Getting tired and throwing up are things that do happen, but not necessarily with getting a delayed period,' she notes. She buries her face in her hands as she considers this last fact; the truth is that she is not just a few days but more than a month delayed. 'And in all that time you've gone and done a number of dangerous things,' she berates herself.
She almost does not hear the usher calling her name as well as the rest of the examinees, and so she has to run to keep up with the group being ushered into the examination room. Doctor Beaufort is grinning from ear to ear as he hands over an envelope. "Congratulations. You did very well."
"Thank you Doctor Beaufort," Eponine says gratefully. She feels a rush of relief and elation as she takes a look at the certificate of her admission to the Society of Trauma Surgery, as well as her high marks on the exam. All the same she can't deny the feeling of her heart pounding against her ribs as she congratulates Combeferre and their fellow surgeons, before she hurries down to the pharmacy.
Once she is there Eponine quickly grabs five different pregnancy tests and practically shoves them onto the counter. The cashier tries to keep a straight face as she gets a look at Eponine's purchases. "Any congratulations in advance?"
"Let me congratulate myself first," Eponine says as she hands over her payment. Since she has the rest of the day off from work she decides to head home, if only to rest and perhaps calm down a little. Yet despite the comfort of her surroundings she can't stop her hands from shaking as she opens up the tests and follows the instructions on each packet. She leaves the five little sticks on the bathroom counter and sits on the tiled floor, hugging her knees to her chest. 'At least you're finding out this way and not in the aftermath of an accident,' she thinks, recalling how Azelma received the same sort of news under more uncomfortable circumstances.
She only dares to take a peek after fifteen minutes, and she feels as if her heart is in her throat as she looks at the pink lines and plus signs that all point to a single outcome. "You've probably known for some time, at the back of your mind at least," she realizes as she sets down the five sticks and washes her hands. There is one person she has to tell, at least before setting out for the evening's revelry. "Not over the phone or voicemail," she resolves firmly.
It is only as she is washing her face and changing into more comfortable clothes that she allows her thoughts to take a different turn. 'This is going to be one beautiful kid,' she can't help thinking even as she pictures a little boy with curly hair and dark eyes. Her breath catches as she imagines this child cradled against her chest on late nights, or running up to Enjolras and calling him "Papa". The thought of having inadvertently harmed their child by way of occupational hazards is almost enough to send her into a panic, but she has to be strong especially if her worst fears do come true. "We're going to be fine," she whispers as she puts her hands on her stomach, which is still so deceptively flat. "Maybe I'm not doing everything right; I already think I've done something horribly wrong and I'm so, so, sorry. But I swear I'll do anything to make sure you're okay. I promise that." She knows that it is too early to expect to feel anything, but she likes to think her words are still understood.
In the meantime she takes the opportunity to head down to the grocer's to pick up some supplies as well as some dessert for the party at the Fauchelevents'. When she gets home she finds the apartment door unlocked, and as she opens the door she catches sight of Enjolras walking out of the bathroom. "Eponine, are those sticks on the bathroom counter what I think they are?" he asks perplexedly as he goes to help her with the groceries.
Eponine pales as she realizes what he is referring to. "You weren't supposed to see those!"
His eyebrows shoot up for a moment. "What do you mean? They were out in plain sight."
"I was going to tell you right away, but not like this!" She sets down the bags she is carrying onto the kitchenette counter and takes a few deep breaths, if only to try to calm her racing heartbeat. "I thought that all this getting tired and a bit queasy was just exam stress. The thing is that I'm more than a month late with my period. The last time I had it was just after my birthday at the beginning of April. If I do the math, I'm about six or seven weeks along."
Enjolras nods slowly, clearly trying to let this news sink in. "That's even before our wedding."
She rolls her eyes at this less than helpful statement. "Remember that I had a few drinks then? If I had known, then I wouldn't have..." she trails off as she can feel that overwhelming sense of guilt welling up again. "I'm so stupid. I'm a doctor and I should have been more careful."
Enjolras' brow furrows with worry. "Been more careful about what?"
"The drinking, the x-rays I've been using in the OR, the dangerous stuff I come across at work, even the rashes that some of my patients get...it's all risky. All this while I've been endangering this baby." The thought is so horrifying that she almost feels sick, but she wills herself to ignore the nausea. "What kind of mother am I going to be if I'm so irresponsible?"
He shakes his head. "You're the last person I'd give that attribute to."
She manages a smile at this roundabout compliment. "And you aren't angry that it's so sudden. We weren't planning this, not at all."
"It would have happened eventually," he reminds her as he closes the distance between them and clasps her arm. "Maybe you ought to talk to Chetta about this later at the party. I'm sure her opinion will be very useful."
Eponine shakes her head. "I think I ought to schedule an appointment with her tomorrow instead," she says flatly. "It's more professional that way."
"Point taken," he concurs. His smile is tentative but nonetheless joyous as he finally meets her gaze. "We'll figure this out, Eponine. It's going to be fine."
She nods and hugs him tightly, drawing on the sureness and calm that is in each and every word of his. "This kid is so lucky to have you as a dad."
Enjolras presses his lips to her brow and the corner of her mouth even as one of his hands comes to rest on her midsection. "Not as lucky as he or she will be to call you 'Mom'."
The thought makes her feel warm all over as she buries her face in his shoulder. She feels him relax against her, and that's enough for her to feel that perhaps they can get this right after all. "You do know you just signed up for bringing up a little hell raiser?" she muses aloud. "There is no way that this kid will escape your stubbornness."
Enjolras smirks at this quip before lifting her chin to kiss her again. "If it's your hell raiser too, then I'm more than up for the challenge."